


First Steps

by KEBKEN



Series: Average [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dragonborn is a member of the cyrodiil guild and came to help the guild in Riften, Gen, Probably not completely canon compliant but who cares lol, Thieves Guild, bc he was bored
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 01:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14461740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KEBKEN/pseuds/KEBKEN
Summary: Held hadn’t been as scared to meet Mercer Frey as someone else in his shoes might have been.He had enough other things to worry about.





	First Steps

I

 

Held hadn’t been as scared to meet Mercer Frey as someone else in his shoes might have been. Back then Held hadn’t known anyone in the Guild, he had no one who would have protected him if the Guild master had decided he wasn’t trustworthy. It had been a risky move in the first place, basically just knocking at the Guilds front door and asking to join. He had been part of the Guild in Cyrodiil, true, but that didn’t have to mean anything to the guild in Skyrim. With the high tension between the Nords and the High Elves it had been even more of a gamble for him, being an Altmer himself.

 But Held had been sick of being stuck in Cyrodiil, hiding away for the rest of his life. He had always been someone who enjoyed being on the move and that hadn’t changed, no matter how old he had become since arriving in the Imperial city. So, when he had heard from one of his many sources that the Riften Thieves Guild had run into trouble, he had jumped at the chance for a change of scenery.

Arriving in Skyrim for the first time had been different. Held had been used to a generally warm climate and the occasional snowy mountain. Skyrim was all snow and ice. It wasn’t something he was particularly comfortable with but it was something he just had to deal with.

All in all, Held had bigger things to worry about than being nervous about meeting the Guild Master. He was aware of how important first impressions were. He wouldn’t leave room for doubt in his mind. The Guild master would notice any cracks he was willing to show for sure, it came with his job after all. And Held had heard that Mercer was holding the guild together at this point. Which meant he must have been capable enough to deserve his position and at least a small amount of respect to go along with it.

With his mind made up, the elf focused on the red-haired Nord who was busy selling obviously fake potions at one of the small stalls on the big Market in the centre of Riften. After all, Held knew a golden opportunity when he saw one.

 

II

 

 The Ragged Flagon was an empty shell of what it must have been at one point. It was the first thing the Elf noticed as Brynjolf led him through its entrance for the first time. Dirty alcoves were scattered around the wall surrounding the lake that was in the middle of the big hall. They were all filled with big spider and cobwebs and old, mouldy furniture that had been placed on top of thin hole filled carpets on the floor. It must have been where all kind of traders used to sell their wares Held concluded, before his attention was caught by the soft light on the other end of the hall.

 Hidden in the sewers was an actual bar, that was illuminated with the light of a few candles. The establishment was put together out of a dark wooden counter, a few small tables surrounded by equally small chairs and a separate section to sit made out of wood, that had been built across a part of the dirty lake. Unlike the indents surrounding the place, there were actually people around the place too.

The barkeeper seemed like a normal man and was busy serving a blond-haired woman sitting on a stool by the counter. The way she was dressed in leather armour showed that she was a thief like Held and Bynjolf. A buff man was leaning against the wall by the “entrance” of the establishment. He seemed to fulfil the job of a guard and didn’t seem to fit the role of a thief like the other people Held had seen. A few more shady people where scattered around the smaller tables, but the whole place didn’t seem quite as full as it could have been.

“Here we are then,” Brynjolf quickly explained. Brynjolf being the red-haired Nord with green eyes whom Held had met on the market earlier. He had been there under the disguise of a potion seller. The only problem with that had been the fact that the locals had apparently known that the potions he was selling were about as efficient as a glass of water. But as it had turned out, selling the potions had not been the purpose of his trade. Distracting a huge crowd however, had been. With Helds assistance they had stolen a personal belonging of one of the other stall owners and framed a Dark Elf who had apparently run out of luck.

 The whole thing had been a perfect test for Held to prove his skill and explain his intentions to the guild member which led to their trip to the sewers beneath the city.

 “I‘m sure you’re used to a better hideout but this is what we have to deal with currently,” the eyes of the redhead seemed to sparkle in excitement as he went on, “ With your golden grabby hands, things will change soon, I‘m sure of it.”

 They were taken out of their conversation by a newcomer who had previously been one of the people seated at the bar. He was a tall and broad human with a bald shaved head. He was wearing the same thick black leather uniform like Brynjolf and also bore a similar accent, Held realized as the man begun to talk.

“Brynjolf! You bringing in a new recruit?” the guy asked, his voice naturally deep and smooth.

 “Yes, but under different circumstances than before, “ Brynjolf returned and promptly gave the elf an encouraging pat on the back as if they had been old friends. “This guy is a member of the thieves’ guild in Cyrodiil. Said he heard of our bad luck and we wanted to try changing things. I wish some of our guys had that optimism,” chuckled the red-haired Nord after his explanation.

“Ah. A friend of mine hinted at someone they knew coming by, “ the big guy looked directly at Held after he was done talking to Brynjolf. “They’re trustworthy, so the fact you know them means you aren’t a political spy either. Good.” he finally addressed the elf before introducing himself.  
“The name’s Delvin.”

“I’m Held. Your name exceeds you, truth be told. I ‘ve heard about you even in Cyrodiil and not just from our common friend,” he admitted to Delvin. Now that the Altmer had a name, he knew who he was dealing with. In their line of work, names held a lot more power than their face, for obvious reasons. Delvin Mallory was well known for being one big contact to have in your pocket. He knew people everywhere like no other and was even rumoured to have contacts in the dark brotherhood, an infamous cult of assassins. If all these facts hadn’t been enough of an indicator that Delvin was an unpleasant enemy to have, if you valued your life, the elf didn’t know what else would be.

“You heard of me huh? “ the big man inquired with an equally big grin on his face, “All good things I hope?“ Held snorted in amusement. There wasn’t anything good about their job. His opposite seemed to catch his train of thought and let out a low chuckle too and apparently content with Helds response he went on, “Sadly I can’t say I know too much about you besides the fact that you’re one of Folkvis associates. But I suppose that’s a good thing. She doesn’t mingle with bad thieves. “

 “I’m glad you two like each other but I‘ll have to break your conversation off here,“ Brynjolf interrupted them, with no small amount of curiosity in his voice. ”You can continue on later, in fact I urge you to do that. We need all the contacts we can get, but lanky and I need to talk to the boss first. “

 

III

 

Before entering the room, the guild master was occupying, Bynjolf had gone ahead to tell his boss about his new protégé. So, when the Elf finally walked into the new hall, their secret hideout hidden even deeper in the Ratways, Brynjolf and Mercer were already waiting for him in the middle of the room. Not unlike the first hall this one too had a shallow lake in the middle but this time four bridges connected in the centre of it to form a round platform. Around the lake was a walkway and for doors that were evenly distributed along the wall and a big table and a few cheap beds.

What probably surprised Held the most at first, was the fact that the famed Guild Master wasn’t actually that tall. Maybe he should have been paying attention to more important things but height was something that had been off here in Skyrim. In the Summerset Isles, everyone had been fucking tall, him included. And that meant in Cyrodiil, everyone had been shorter than him. In Skyrim, both had happened frequently. Ore he thought about it the more he realized that maybe he shouldn’t have been too surprised after all.

 The man must have been around a head smaller than Held. Mercer had dark eyes, and with that both his irises and the skin surrounding them was described. He had a generally grave facial expression that had become permanent due to his wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. His hair was a dull grey blonde, more gray than blonde in some places and was swept back loosely. It wasn’t short but it didn’t reach his shoulders either.

"So, Mercer, this is the one I was talking about. The new recruit from the Imperial City,” the redhead introduced him briefly. Held watched the addressed man and nodded in agreement. Mercer seemed to hiss something under his breath in Brynjolfs direction and finally looked at the yellow skinned Elf afterwards.

 

"Before we continue, I want to make one thing perfectly clear,” the blonde man begun in an aggressive drawl, “If you play by the rules, you walk away rich. You break the rules and you lose your share. No debates, no discussions... you do what we say, when we say. Do I make myself clear?" 


End file.
